


For Once I Could Go Off

by queeniegalore



Series: Wishlist Verse [1]
Category: Generation Kill
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-15
Updated: 2012-02-15
Packaged: 2017-10-31 05:14:09
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/340318
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/queeniegalore/pseuds/queeniegalore
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ray and Walt fall in love in and out of war. Brad is there to mock them for it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	For Once I Could Go Off

**Author's Note:**

> Title from Wishlist by Pearl Jam, which is also the unofficial soundtrack to this fic because I love it. 
> 
> This was the first fic I ever wrote in this fandom, and it never had a proper beta and for that I apologise. But it's still pretty fuckin' awesome.
> 
> Disclaimer: I do not own the characters, nor have any association with the real people the characters are based on. Pure non-profit fiction.

_Now,_ _California_

 

When Ray and Walt started fucking around, Ray went through life in a total daze for _weeks_. It was the only good thing to come out of that whole fucked up Iraq mission - that and enough blackmail material on Brad to last him at _least_ the next five years - but Ray didn’t really know exactly how to take it. Like, yes, he could probably imagine fucking around with Walt for, like, the rest of his life, but he wasn’t sure if he could admit that, yet, own up to what it meant. All he knew was that he didn’t want to do that whole Brokeback Mountain hiding-their-love-and-living-apart kind of thing. Ray’s style would probably have been more like sending-a-group-email-to-the-platoon-with-a-picture-of-Walt’s-tongue-in-his-mouth kind of thing. Which would be pretty epic, come to think of it, and he’d need to get Walt’s ok, but …

  
But emails and the look on Trombley's face when he saw them aside, Ray really had never been happier, he was man enough to admit _that_ at least. Which was probably fucked up and said all sorts of dire shit about him, because they were _currently_ camped out in fucking Brad's living room and had been for the week they'd been back from Iraq. They were stuck cooling their heels while they waited for Walt's car to be shipped out so they could head out on the epic road trip they'd been planning out ever since Mathilda. That was before it all started, of course, so plans had changed somewhat since then. _Mostly_ to incorporate more fucking in honeymoon suites. And yeah, he still needed Walt's ok for the honeymoon suites as well, but he'd cross that bridge when he came to it.  
  
For now they were stuck at Brad's house, fighting over the couch and trying to avoid getting busted by the Iceman in any compromising positions because as sparkly as Ray’s feelings about the entire Walt situation were, they'd only just gotten back from a goddamned war, and one, Ray still wasn’t entirely sure how things with he and Walt were gonna play out and he didn’t want to get ahead of himself, and two, he didn't want to blow Brad's mind until he'd had a chance to settle back into normal life. It wasn’t like he thought Brad would fly into a homophobic rage and kill them both, it wasn’t a trust issue like that. He just thought it’d be better for everyone to wait until they’d all had a chance to come down from the war.It was killing him to keep his mouth shut, but Ray figured that on a scale of 1 to PTSD, walking in on your best friend sucking another dude's face was probably at least an eleven.  
  
Which was why it sucked so bad when it actually happened.

   
  


_Then,_ _Iraq_

 

Ray couldn’t really put what he thought about Walt into words, not even in his own head, he just didn’t have the vocabulary to describe why he suddenly thought tiny blonde Marines with blue eyes were so damn attractive. He’d been drawn to him for a long time anyway, because seriously, the guy _may_ have been a hard-as-nails Marine Corps soldier, but he came across like he’d be just as happy sitting in a sunny field all day playing with puppies and kittens and making daisy chains. Honestly Ray mostly just liked fucking with him. But the more he did, the more he realised that Walt was kind of fierce, and kind of fucking amazing to boot. Also, he laughed at all of Ray’s jokes even when no one else did, and gave him all his peanut butter MREs and was a fucking _machine_ on the big guns and wham, out of nowhere Ray had a man-crush that he didn’t even know what to _do_ with. By the time the thing with the combat-jacks had started, it was way too late, and _after_ that he found himself rethinking 23 years of static heterosexuality and wondering how bad his momma wanted grandbabbies.

 

It was at that point that he’d been kind of surprised Brad hadn’t picked up on it, like, yes they were in the middle of a war and all, but apparently when it came to who was sitting next to him in the humvee Brad’s recon skills left a bit to be desired. But it was better that way, Brad was his best friend in the world, he’d tread lightly if it meant keeping it that way. Until they got out of fucking Iraq, anyway.

 

Anyway, the _first_ time could have been written off as innocent, almost. It wasn’t the first time Ray had jerked off in the near vicinity of another dude, fuck, you did what you had to in the middle of a war, and he’d lost count of the amount of times in his life he’d had to nut one out to the sound of Brad snoring three feet away.It _was_ the first time that that someone else had been jacking off at the same time, though, close enough to _touch_. He hadn’t meant it to happen, and as far as he knew Walt hadn’t either, but there it was.

 

It’d been just before they rolled into Baghdad, after Brad had made like Santa Claus with his porn and ravioli, after Ray had made Walt smile for the first time in days and felt his heart melt into a pile of fucking girly-ass goo as a result. He’d needed some time alone after that, and that night he’d managed to sneak off into relative privacy in a little stand of trees. He’d been sitting leaning against one, eyes closed, concentrating hard on getting off, needing it so bad it blocked out everything else in the entire world. He hadn’t realised Walt had settled down on the other side until he’d heard him opening his pants, pulling himself out, making these little, hushed, unmistakable ‘uh, uh,’ noises. Of course, by then Ray was pretty much beyond the point of no return so as Walt started to get more into it Ray just kept going, his heart pounding, so tense with all these feeling racketing around inside him that he refused to even acknowledge. So he didn’t, just moaned, stripping his cock like it was the last time he’d ever get to do it, Walt doing the exact same thing right next to him, their arms almost brushing. It was so fucking _hot_ , like the closest he’d been to getting laid in months. He bit his lip and closed his eyes, just listening to the noises Walt was making get more and more desperate until with a harsh gasp Walt was coming and then, almost to his surprise, so was Ray.

 

“Fuuuuuck,” Ray sighed, leaning his head back and twisting it to the side to look at Walt for the first time. Walt was already tucking himself away, the picture of innocence except for the flush on his cheeks. He tore off a strip of toilet paper to wipe his hands.

 

“Want some?”

 

“Shit dog, I just _got_ some,” Ray said, kinda dazed but took a couple sheets – ignoring the way his heart jumped when their fingers touched - and cleaned himself off. Walt stood up and stretched, grinning down at him. It was like being looked at by a small golden sun, or some kind of poster boy for wholesome corn-fed farm-boy twinks.

 

“I’m gonna go get some shut-eye.” Walt said, his voice kind of scratchy. Ray was gonna remember the way Walt’s voice sounded right after he came for the _rest of his life_. “You should get some sleep too, you horny fucking hick.”

 

Yeah, because like he could sleep after _that_.

 

So he spent the next few days making googly eyes at Walt and pulling on his fucking pigtails and being even more of a spastic than usual, earning himself a lot of whacks in the Kevlar from his so-called best bud. He still didn’t really understand what was going on, although yeah, he was starting to figure shit out. It was kind of a clue when he found himself noticing what shade of blue Walt’s eyes were, or how his mouth looked when he was smiling, or how many calluses he had on his palms from manning the Mark 19 all day. But yeah, he had to admit, he spent most of that time _kind_ of hoping it’d happen again.

 

Like, as soon as possible.

  
  
 _Now,_ _California_

  
So they were on Brad’s couch late on a Sunday morning, tangled up together because they were both too stubborn to give any ground, fighting over the TV remote and whose cup of coffee was whose, and who had worse morning breath, and Walt was just _right fucking there_ , looking all golden and sunshiny and like he'd just been puked up by a unicorn or whatever, so Ray completely lost his willpower and leaned in and kissed him. Like, really _kissed_ him, because it's not like he ever did anything half-cocked, let alone make out with a hot piece of ass like Hasser. He caught Walt's mouth with his own, sucking and licking at his lips, and leaned into it, shoving him down onto the couch and just sinking into all that warmth. Walt's arms wrapped around him, tight, fingers gripping his shoulders and tugging at the neck of his shirt. He made a soft, satisfied sound and his eyes drifted closed, and Ray pulled back a little to kiss his forehead, the inside of his eyebrow, the edge of his cheekbone. Walt smiled, opened his eyes back up, and froze. "Brad."  
  
Moment over. "Uh, no, but ok, I'm into all kinds of crazy shit-"  
  
"No, you fucknut," Walt wiggled out from under him, nearly falling off the couch in the process, and Ray turned around, already knowing what he was about to see, feeling his stomach kind of drop anyway.  
  
And yeah, sure enough, Brad stood in the doorway in his sweats, back early from his morning run. Ray sat up, clutching a cushion over his lap, struck dumb for the first time in living memory. It was like everything he didn’t want to happen was about to happen all over his _face_.  
  
Brad opened his mouth, closed it, shook his head, and took a step backwards. "Ok, then," he said in a choked sort of voice, holding up his hand in the universal signal for ‘please stop what you are fucking doing right now, good god’. He turned around very slowly, like he was navigating a mine-field, and headed down the hallway, away from them. "That's just...not what I was expecting."  
  
Ray was stricken. He'd never seen that look on Brad's face before, not even when there were people, like, _actually_ shooting at them. "Brad," he called helplessly, sliding off the couch, trying to figure out if it'd be better to run after him or let him...settle for a bit.  
  
He turned to Walt, who looked up at him with wide eyes. "Screwby," he mouthed, and it was the last thing Ray would have expected him to say, looked like the last thing Walt had expected _himself_ to say, and Ray couldn't help himself. His lips twitched, and Walt shook his head in warning, but the laugh was already bubbling up out of him.  
  
"Ray! Fucking shut up, man. _Is_ Brad going to kill us? Is he gonna come in here with his 40 damn mike-mike and-" Ray leaned down and covered Walt's mouth with his hand, rolled his eyes.  
  
"Oh, please, it’s the _Iceman_ , if he was gonna do it he'd do it in our sleep. RIGHT BRAD? Brad! Get back here you fucking Viking motherfucker and let me explain this shit!"  
  
Walt twisted away from him and gave him that big blue stare again, like he was some sort of Aryan Nation orphan puppy. "Stop standing on your dick and hollering you idiot, go talk to him,” he said, and Ray amended that to Aryan Nation orphan puppy with a mouth like a…well, like a Marine.  
  
"You're sending me into the lion’s den alone? And here I was picking out china pattens already. Seriously Walt, my feelings are hurt."  
  
"Yeah, no, I’m gonna hold my position while _you_ go assess the sitrep. Come _on_ , Ray, he's your best friend. He's less likely to fucking slaughter you."

 

Frankly, Ray wasn’t assured of that.

 

Brad was in the kitchen, crashing around making coffee like it was a shock and awe military operation. Ray leaned in the doorway watching for a second before clearing his throat. “Brad.”

 

“Ok, so, you’re gay.” Brad said, straight up, like it was normal for a human being to have no sense of delicacy whatso _ever_. “That’s new.”

 

Ray made a face. Gay was a word he’d been avoiding using to himself. He preferred sparkly, or rock-star-esque. “I’m not gay, Jesus Christ, Brad.”

 

Brad looked at him incredulously. “Do I seriously need to explain shit to you? When a man and another man-”

 

Ray waved his hands, cutting him off. This was gonna be harder than he thought, he’d hardly even managed to figure this shit out in his _own_ head yet, let alone try to explain it to someone else. Anything deeper than the fact that he wanted to look at Walt’s eyelashes for the next several decades had basically been hand-waved away. “Fuck off, Colbert. I’m not about to start dancing up and down in the rainbow parade in a pair of Rudy’s fucking go-go shorts. I just fucking like _Walt_.”

 

Brad seemed lost for words, his face red. Ray thought it was probably harder for him to hear this shit than it was for Ray to say it, but he didn’t really care. Ray was the one who had to _live_ it.

 

“You _like_ him?”

 

Ray shrugged, uncomfortable. “Yeah, I like him. I passed him a note in fourth period asking if he liked me too and he passed it back with an affirmative and it’s been hearts and roses since then.”

 

Brad snorted. “You like him, right. You fucking like me too, Person, and as far as I know you haven’t tried to lick my tonsils out yet. So what the actual fuck?”

 

“Ugh, homes,” Ray sighed and sank down into a chair. “I don’t know, ok? It just turned out this way. We’ve been dealing with it as best we can.”

 

Brad paused, frowning. Ray could actually _see_ the other penny drop. “Wait a second. How long has this shit been going on? Please don’t tell me-”

 

“Since, like, outside Baghdad.”

 

Brad looked like he was going to choke, and Ray winced, drumming his fingers on the table. Yeah, this was gonna suck.

 

“Are you serious? Are you fucking serious, Ray? You were out in Iraq, in a platoon of fucking bloodthirsty Marines, experimenting with your damn sexuality like a de-caff hippy liberal-arts college kid? You could have been fucking _lynched_.”

 

“Fuck, come on, you’re exaggerating.”

 

“Oh, you think? Can you imagine Trombley catching you? Or fucking Jacks or Chaffin? Or _any fucking one of them_? You think I could have protected you from that kind of shit? You and Walt would have been goddamned road-hauled all the way through Mesopotamia, you stupid _fuck_.”

 

Ray looked at him steadily, trying not to let shit faze him. He knew Brad was yelling at him in the same way the mother of a five year old yells when he wanders onto the road by himself. Ray wasn’t an idiot, at least not about Brad. He had trouble even thinking the L-Word to himself when it came to Walt, but with Brad he could say it loud and proud. He loved him like a brother, like they shared DNA, and under all the mother-hen slash alpha-male bullshit Brad threw around like it was cool, he knew Brad felt the same way. It was fucking pissing him off right now, but he couldn’t hate.

 

“Brad, what do you want me to say?” he asked reasonably. “I can’t change it. Nothing like that happened, so stay fucking cool. You know Walt and I were never gonna be career military, we’re both getting out soon. It’s gonna be fucking fine.”

 

Brad sat down opposite him, seemed to really look at him for the first time. “Holy shit, Ray. Is this serious?”

 

Ray squirmed in his seat, looking down the hall in the direction of Walt. He didn’t want him to hear this, not yet. “Look, yes, probably. I don’t know. It’s not like I’m hugely experienced in big gay romances, homes. But I mean, if this isn’t too fucking homosexual for you to deal with, I guess it’s kinda serious. I don’t just give it up for every guy who bats his lashes at me.”

 

“Yeah, or you woulda bitten every Iraqi’s pillow from Mathilda to Baghdad, I see your point.” Brad gave a grudging half smile. “I am going to regret asking this for the rest of my life, and if you weren’t a trailer trash red-state hick with as little cash as fucking brains I’d make you pay for the therapy, but…morbid curiosity is getting the better of me. How the fuck did it start? What’d you meet eyes across a crowded berm? Did doves start crying, Ray? You can tell me.”

 

Ray leaned back in his chair and shook his head. “Oh, no, dude. You don’t wanna know. Your warrior spirit will be affronted. You’ll never be able to look at a humvee again and all your rah-rah moto memories of our Iraq adventures will be soiled.”

 

Brad blanched. “Please tell me you pair of degenerates didn’t defile the humvee, Ray. I mean, I’d expect it of _you_ , but I always thought Walt was such a good, well mannered Marine.”

 

Ray grinned. “Gimme your definition of _defile_.”

   
  


_Then,_ _Iraq_

 

The humvee was later, though. The second time Ray and Walt did their thing was a few days after the first, in the damned cigarette factory. Ray had just finished a giant geek-out session with Brad over how best to unfuck the company comms, and needed some time alone to clear his head. He’d found an empty room, like a supply cupboard or something, that had a window open to the sky, and he was leaning against the wall with his hand on his dick, looking up at the stars and wondering if he could even be bothered. He was just mustering up the energy when the door opened and Walt dropped down beside him, grinning. “So, you wanna?”

 

Well yeah, he wanted to.

 

They didn’t say much at first, didn’t need to. Ray just closed his eyes and set too, very conscious of Walt’s body heat right next to him, of Walt’s soft, panting breaths, of the idea that he finally wasn’t doing this alone, and that it was _Walt_ that was doing it with him. It was fucking amazing.

 

But then Walt started making these frustrated noises, like whatever he was doing just wasn’t working. Ray licked his lips, wondered for about half a second if he should break the silence, but that was never really an issue for him. “Hey, hey, what’s up?”

 

Walt sighed, and slowed down a little. “Fuckin’…It’s like the fuckin’ Mark 19, man. Jammed all to hell. Sometimes I just can’t get the motherfucker to go off.” He gave a little hollow laugh, like it was all good, but Ray knew how demoralising that shit could be.

 

“You need to take better care of yourself, bro,” he said, slowing down so he didn’t nut off in the middle of giving Walt a pep talk.

 

“Yeah, easier said than done out here.”

 

“What, uh,” Ray turned his head to look at Walt, his profile etched clearly in the moonlight, eyes closed and brow furrowed. “What normally works for you? What do you normally think about?”

 

Walt shrugged. “Shit is so messed up, man. I try not to think about anything. Safer that way." He looked back at Ray, then quickly looked away. In the dim light Ray could just make out the way his bottom lip looked all bitten and red and sore. He thought it was _sexy_. Like, tell him that three weeks ago and he would have started firing shots, but now, ok, it was pretty sexy. "What do _you_ normally think about?"

 

Ray grinned. "Myself, homes."

 

That startled a laugh out of Walt, like he knew it would. "No, I'm serious! You're right, shit that works at home doesn't work out here. You gotta just concentrate on yourself and making yourself fucking feel good." He noticed Walt's arm start moving again, and his mouth went dry. He made himself keep going. "I mean, you need to take what you can. The only pleasure you get out here is nutting one out, right? You need to make it worth it."

 

"True, that," Walt said, and Ray noted with interest the hitch in his voice. His dick was interested, anyway.

 

"Feels good, huh? You just need to concentrate on your own cock, the sensations running through it, the fucking way you're holding it. _All_ that matters is the come building up, that feeling you get when you know you're about to blow..." Walt made a noise like he was whimpering, except Marines didn't whimper so Ray was probably mistaken. He started stroking himself again, watching Walt out of the corner of his eye, watching the flush on his cheeks deepen. "You gotta let everything go, man. There's nothing to think about except your hand on your dick and your..." He had to pause, getting so close that the words finally stopped coming. And actually, yes, Walt was definitely whimpering. Quietly so no one but Ray could hear, but oh yeah, there it was.

 

Ray was gonna come _so hard._

 

Next to him Walt groaned, knocking his head back against the wall. "Why'd you stop talking, motherfucker?"

 

Ray smirked at him, heart pounding. "No one's ever asked me that before."

 

" _Ray_."

 

"Yeah, ok," he licked his lips, "So I take it you got shit working now, Walt? You gonna come all over your fucking self? C'mon, squeeze it out, you know it's gonna feel so goddamn amazing..."

 

“Oh my _god_ ,” Walt moaned softly and Ray turned to watch as he shot off, head pressed hard back against the wall. Ray held his breath, working furiously at his own cock. “Fuuuuck, Ray,” Walt panted, working the last of it out, “You and your fucking _mouth_ ,”

 

 “Walt,” Ray managed, but then he was gone, chewing on his lip as his orgasm blindsided him, waves of pleasure jolting through his body, better than any combat jack he’d ever fucking had.

 

They sat slumped against the wall, after, both panting, both shocked into silence. Life went on around them, on the other side of the wall, Marine bullshit just the same as always. On one hand it was comforting, on the other it was actually kind of terrifying.

 

“Walt,” Ray said again, and paused.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Homes…what the fuck are we doing?” Ray tried to at least have a _little_ crisis, but his heart wasn’t in it. He knew what they were doing.

 

Walt shrugged and smiled. “I dunno. Does it matter?”

 

Ray had to smile back. He watched as Walt fixed himself up, got up to leave. “You look like you should be in gay porn, motherfucker,” he said before he could think about it. Walt laughed, surprised.

 

“Shut the fuck up,” he said, still eyes shining, “I’ve had enough of your mouth for one night.”

 

And he sauntered off, leaving Ray staring after him, just hoping for another round.

 

When he joined Brad again ten minutes later, he couldn’t stop grinning like a fucking idiot.

 

“What are you so excited about?”

 

“Just the thought of spending all night on the radios with nothing but Captain America’s tears for company, buddy!” Ray sung, and Brad gave him a weird look, made to check his temperature.

 

“You really were dropped on a head as a small child, weren’t you, Ray,” he said affectionately. “You’re just not _like_ the rest of us.”

 

“Brad,” said Ray, shaking his head, “You have no fucking idea.”

   
  


_Now,_ _California_

 

“Brad says we have his blessing as long as he gets to be the godfather of all our future adopted rainbow babies.” Ray announced as he walked back up to Walt, standing in the vee of his legs and looking down with a grin.

 

Walt tried to frown, but Ray could see the smile teasing at the corners of his mouth. “He did not say that.”

 

“Homes, he did too. He says he’ll need to be there to save them from our corrupting influence.” Ray reached down and kissed Walt’s bottom lip. It felt good to be able to do it without worrying about being caught, for the first time ever. Walt’s smile started working properly, the one he gave Ray that made Ray want to shoot glitter out of every orifice.

 

“He’s really ok?”

 

“He’ll live. He spent 50 years inside a humvee with me so he already knows I’m kind of a degenerate. It’s you he’s worried about, to be honest.” Ray put his hands on either side of Walt’s face, studying him critically. “It’s because you look like such a nice boy. He wants to know how the Marines could produce someone who would willingly have sex with me.”

 

Walt snorted and wiggled free, leaning back on the couch, which was just an invitation for Ray to climb on top of him and make himself comfortable. Walt’s hands settled on Ray’s hips and he looked up at Ray like he was content for the first time in months. “Well, I’m willing,” Walt conceded, “But we haven’t even managed to get that far yet, so all isn’t lost. I could still be saved.”

 

Ray was outraged, like, having actual, honest to god sex with Walt in a bed with no other Marines in a 100 mile radius was at current his one goal in life. He was about to start protesting, violently, but Walt put a hand on the back of his neck and pulled him down, kissing him hard. Ray moaned into it, going along because, yeah, sometimes Walt had the best ideas.

 

And then - “I’m having a shower!” Brad’s voice boomed through the house, sounding pained. Another damned moment ruined. “I’m only going to be about five minutes so don’t get any ideas!”

 

Ray broke away and shouted back in the direction of the bathroom. “We just got back from a war, Brad, five minutes is plenty of time!”

 

“Maybe enough time for _you_ ,” Walt protested. Watching his mouth move after he’d just been kissed was really distracting. “Don’t make Brad think I’m no two-stroke.”

 

“Brad doesn’t want to think about any of it!” Brad called back. “Jesus Christ. After I wash away this dirty feeling I’m going to get some tequila and get fucking drunk.”

 

Ray caught Walt’s gaze and raised his eyebrow. Getting drunk on a Sunday afternoon sounded alright to him, too.

 

“That’s why he’s the team leader,” Walt said cheerfully and Ray ducked back down to kiss him as thoroughly as possible for their allotted five minutes. It was awesome.

   
  


_Then,_ _Iraq_

It was the third time that made it real, that made Ray know it wasn’t just all in his head, that they weren’t gonna forget about it all once they got home. Up until that point he could have buried it away, if he had to, called it a classic combat-stress reaction and gotten on with his life. But the third time changed everything, because that was when he kissed Walt, and after that he knew there was no damn going back, at least not for him.

 

It was kind of fitting that it had happened in the humvee, their home for the past few weeks, soaked with their blood and sweat. If Ray had been big into omens and portents and shit he could probably have read into that a lot, but seriously, all he really cared about was how good it felt to be squished against Walt in the back seat, alone for a change, no one shooting at them, sharing their last pound cake.

 

“I’ve been thinking,” Walt said, and he had a crumb stuck to his bottom lip that Ray was scrupulously avoiding looking at. If he paid it too much attention he was going to do something totally gay like lean forward and wipe it off. With his _tongue_.

 

“We’re corporals,” he said instead, “We don’t get paid to think.”

 

Walt grinned and ignored him. “I’ve been thinking about all this shit we’ve been getting up to,” he said, and Ray’s breath stuttered. He tried to cover it up by breaking off more pound cake and shoving it in mouth, but he caught Walt’s knowing glance.

 

“You mean rolling around Iraq blowing shit up and getting shot at?” he asked hopefully, and Walt frowned at him, rolled his eyes.

 

“Ray-”

 

“Yeah, alright, I know what you mean,” Ray said, and sighed, slumping back against the door, studying Walt in the dim light filtered through the humvee. They were parked in amongst some palms, small miracle of privacy.

 

Walt had located the crumb on his lip with his tongue, Ray watched in almost physical pain as he licked it off. Damn. Walt and his tongue had been involved in a couple of very graphic combat jack fantasies lately. And that had been Ray all on his own.

 

“Do you ever wanna talk about it?” Walt asked, mirroring Ray’s position, one leg cocked up onto the seat, the other spread out in what little space there was on the floor. Ray squirmed, their boots and knees kept knocking together and it was really fucking hot in the humvee and he was both uncomfortable and turned on. Damnit.

 

“Not really, homes,” he said, “Being a blood-crazed berserker warrior and all, talking isn’t exactly my strong suit.”

 

Walt laughed in disbelief, shaking his head. “You could have fooled me,” he said, “And everyone else in this platoon.” He tipped his head back against the window. Ray was mesmerised by how the sun lined his face, caught on his cheekbones and eyelashes. Which seemed really homosexual, when he thought about it, but there it was.

 

“I like how you talk,” Walt said simply into the silence, and Ray felt like he’d been winded, like it was the nicest thing anyone had ever said to him since his gramma saw him in his dress blues for the first time and said she was proud.

 

“Damn, Walt,” he started, but Walt cut him off, still smiling sweetly.

 

“It’s ok if you don’t wanna talk about it,” he said, “You wanna jerk off instead?”

 

Ray blinked, shocked into silence for all of three seconds. And then Walt’s knee knocked against his and he couldn’t get the words out fast enough. “ _Fuck yes_ ,” he breathed out, and then they were digging into their pants, both already primed like they’d known it was coming. Their legs were all tangled up and for the first time they kept eye contact, no shying away as they touched themselves. It was so intimate that Ray kind of _wanted_ to run away, to make like Brad and soar through a field, to go jump in the nearest canal. Instead he made himself look at Walt’s face, at his red cheeks and generous mouth, and when that was too much he dropped his eyes to his cock, drew in a sharp breath.

 

“ _Ray_ ,” Walt said, his voice broken, and Ray could only stare at what his hand was doing, callused and red from the Mark 19, clenched tightly around his dick. “Ray, Ray…”

 

“Fuck,” Ray whispered, and he needed to come _so bad_. “You look so good, man. I wanna…” but he didn’t know what he wanted to do, he wanted to do _everything_. He jerked his cock, kept up the same rhythm as Walt.

 

“Ray, look at me,” Walt said softly, and Ray dragged his eyes back up, watched Walt biting at his lower lip, and then he leaned forwards, grabbing the front of Walt’s shirt with his free hand, a feeling in his chest like a bomb was gonna go off.

 

They leaned in, but Ray chickened out of kissing him at the last second and just pressed their foreheads together, still clutching at Walt like he was a lifeline. Walt was panting, breathing hard through his mouth, breathing Ray’s air and Ray couldn’t deny a fucking thing anymore, there was no point. There was only _Walt_.

 

They came together like that, pressed close in the tight space, faces pressed into each other. Walt was whimpering again like it felt too good for him to handle, and the sound kept sending pulse after pulse to Ray’s cock, like his orgasm was never gonna fucking end. “Oh my god, Walt,” he said over and over, whispering it against Walt’s mouth, “Oh my god.”

 

“Please,” Walt whispered, tilting his head a little and Ray’s resistance was blown to shreds. He pressed forward the last millimetre and kissed him.

 

And nothing else in the world mattered.

 

It didn’t last long, couldn’t, and they both knew it. They were pushing their luck as it was, going dangerously far, and in a few moments they pulled away, fell back against their sides of the humvee. But their eyes were locked, and Walt couldn’t stop smiling and the moment seemed a lot bigger than it was, like in those few seconds someone had called an air strike and obliterated the world, remaking it into something new and strange and scary. Ray felt like if there was going to be a freak out, it was going to be _now_. He was actually kind of waiting for it to hit. But Walt just kept smiling, and Ray had the realisation that from now until the day he died he wasn’t going to do anything to make that smile go away.

 

Oh, wow. Walt had made him act _exactly like a teenage girl._

 

He smiled back, wiping his hands on his pants. Oh, well, if he was gonna be all adolescent about this…“Hey, Walt?”

 

Walt looked sleepy and content, like he was about to curl up in a patch of sunshine and drift off. “Mmm?”

 

Ray waggled his eyebrows. “You wanna go steady?”

 

And Walt just threw his head back and laughed.

 

_Now,_ _California_

Brad made good on his promise of tequila, and by mid-afternoon the three of them were sitting out on the porch with half the bottle gone and a lot of questions flying.

 

“I don’t want to know any details at all,” Brad had said to start with, and Walt had nodded seriously, like he respected Brad’s wishes or some shit. Ray wasn’t going to put up with that nonsense.

 

“But Brad,” he said, reaching out and kicking Brad in the foot, “As my best friend, aren’t you, like contractually obligated to give me _sex advice_? I’m pretty sure you are. I read it in Rudy’s O Magazine.”

 

Walt, who was sitting on the ground leaning against Ray’s legs, looked up at him in warning, and Ray couldn’t stop himself from reaching down and tousling his hair. Brad looked on in grudging amusement.

 

“Well aren’t you just so cute I’m gonna puke,” he said, and downed another tequila shot.

 

“Yeah, I am pretty cute,” Ray conceded, snagging the bottle for himself, “Pity Walt here lets the team down so bad.”

 

“Fuckwad,” Walt said, and rested his head against Ray’s knee. Ray was fast learning that he was a cheap drunk. _That_ had possibilities.

 

“Not that I’m asking for details, because I don’t want them,” Brad said, leaning back into his chair. “But didn’t the both of you have, you know, girlfriends?”

 

Ray squirmed, kind of uncomfortable. _There_ was a question he’d been avoiding. “Not really, homes, not me, anyway. I had a girl I kind of wanted to sc-” Walt made an unhappy noise, and Ray reconsidered his wording. “A girl who was sort of casual. But it never went anywhere.”

 

“You mean she was never gonna let you in her pants so you corrupted poor little Hasser here instead, right.” Brad nodded, and passed down a shot to Walt. “What about you? I know you had someone send you flowery little letters soaked in perfume, don’t tell me you’ve broken some sweet girl’s heart over an inbreed freak like our pal Ray-Ray here.”

 

Walt shrugged and downed his shot. Ray watched with interest as he tilted his head back, paid close attention to the smooth line of his throat as he swallowed.

 

“I’ve never had a girlfriend,” he said, apparently fortified by the booze, and that was news to Ray.

 

“Seriously?”

 

Walt nodded. “Not a proper one. The girl that wrote me the letters, she’s just an old friend from high school. I’ve never dated a girl in my life.”

 

Ray was gob smacked. Pieces started falling into place, swimming through the tequila haze. “Walt,” he said, and paused, not exactly sure how to put this. “Walt, wait, are you _gay_?”

 

Brad sighed and buried his face in his hands, like the whole world was just way too much to deal with. “Ray, you fucking moron.” Walt just snorted and poured another shot.

 

“What? What?” Ray protested, indigent. It was a valid fucking question, ok. “I mean it? Are you actually gay?”

 

“How the hell did I end up with such a goddamned ignorant hick?” Walt asked, looking up at him fondly.

 

“Yeah, I’d like to know that too,” Brad muttered, shaking his head at them.

 

“Shut up, I’m serious! I didn’t know you were gay. I thought you just, you know...”

 

“This is better than my soaps,” Brad commented, “Walt if you need to do some damage, I’ve got a baseball bat around somewhere…”

 

Ignoring him, Walt got up on his knees in front of Ray, still grinning away. “You idiot. I liked you so much I followed you around like a puppy. I laughed at all of your stupid jokes.”

 

“My jokes are funny!”

 

“I gave you my peanut butter MREs!”

 

“You’re _allergic_ to peanuts!”

 

“I kept joining in while you were jerking off! What, did you think it was a _coincidence_ , you retard?”

 

Brad covered his ears with his hands “I didn’t need to hear that! No one ever needed to hear that!”

 

“But…” Ray faltered, looking down at Walt’s face. He wasn’t even really sure what he was arguing about. “But _I’m_ not gay,” he said at last, feeling like he needed to at least get it out there. “Right, Brad?”

 

“How are you so dumb and yet still alive?” Brad asked musingly. He got up and headed inside. “I love you like a little addle-brained brother, Ray, but I swear to god…”

 

Walt put his hand on Ray’s face, and Ray’s stomach kind of wobbled. He had a feeling that something _important_ and _meaningful_ was about to happen. It was scarier than being shot at.

 

“Ray, shut up for a second,” Walt said. “It doesn’t matter who’s gay or not, or who’s going to be sucking whose dick in the shower as soon as Brad leaves the house.” He pressed a finger against Ray’s mouth in a way that told Ray that he already had some pretty strong ideas about that. Ray swallowed. “If you don’t like the word gay, fine, I can deal with that. It doesn’t matter. It’s just a stupid word.”

 

Ray licked his lips. “I guess it’s not that stupid.”

 

“What matters is I followed you around Iraq like a puppy hoping you’d notice me because yes, I like you. And I’m only saying this because I’m drunk, so don’t get any ideas, ok?”

 

Ray couldn’t tear himself away from the blue of Walt’s eyes. There was an entire platoon parade-marching around in his chest. “I’m kind of out of my element, here,” he admitted. “I guess I like you too.”

 

Brad reappeared and ruined the third moment of the day, like he was going for a record or something. Ray was actually kind of relieved. He thought he could almost _feel_ his new vagina growing.

 

“Ok, sparkle twins, your TL is gonna help you out with a few things.” Brad tossed Walt a credit card. “I’ve called you a cab. There’s a Motel Six up the road, you’re booked in for tonight. Walt, if you let Ray anywhere _near_ that credit card I’m coming after you with my Ka-Bar.”

 

“Aww, Brad, I didn’t know you cared,” Ray said, “I’m touched.”

 

“Ray, stop talking. I have known about your little Brokeback romance for all of three seconds and even _I_ can tell when your boyfriend is trying to profess undying love. If it wasn’t so goddamned disturbing it’d be almost kind of sweet.” He looked down at them like some sort of benevolent Viking god. “If I ever have to see you kiss I’m going to poke my own eyes out, but apart from that, if you wanna be a pair of total homosexuals, that’s fine. But please. At least do it _properly_.”

 

He turned on his heel and went back inside, possibly to call the LT and complain about how hard his life was. Ray looked at Walt. “I think that means he loves us.”

 

Walt leaned up and kissed Ray on the nose. Ray’s warrior spirit was completely affronted, but the giant part of him that was just _totally and completely gay_ for Walt started doing the Macarena.

 

“You and your mouth,” Walt said, and hauled himself up. “Let’s get out of here. Ok?”

 

Ray nodded. He was going to get his period any second now, but that was cool. Walt was drunk and blond and probably loved him.

 

“Yeah,” he said. “Whatever you say.”


End file.
